


Art is not merely defined by Novelty

by Hawkbringer



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Abrupt Ending, Caring Hannibal Lecter, Dark Will Graham, Episode: s02e03 Hassun, Established Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Fantasy Fulfillment, Id Fic, Insecure Will Graham, Inspired by..., M/M, Murder Husbands, Post-Canon, Romantic Fluff, Short & Sweet, as though the devil was at your heels, concern over laundry, seeking reassurances, the challenge of art is to constantly reinvent yourself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:08:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23618023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkbringer/pseuds/Hawkbringer
Summary: Post-canon - Will Graham, fully embracing his murder-sona, tries to constantly reinvent himself in order to not be 'boring' in Hannibal's eyes. Over a bloodied corpse, they have a brief discussion about Hannibal's aesthetics, in which Hannibal gives insecure dark!Will the  greatest gift he ever could - full acceptance, and a hug that ruins his favorite suit. (Tooth-rotting murder husbands fluff, written summer 2016)
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	Art is not merely defined by Novelty

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written 20th 6 2016, during a re-watch a year later
> 
> (Hassun, 203)  
> (29.17) 'I want you to believe in the best of me, just as I believe in the best of you.' AND HE'S NOT LYING HERE. HE'S SO NOT LYING, IT'S ABSURD. I think a few episodes down the line, Alana talks to him about it, surrounded by Will's dogs, asking if Hannibal is safe. And Will says, 'he believes in the best of me, I.... don't." or something to that effect. (The pause hides more lines, more like, 'i do and i fucking wish i didn't'.) He doesn't even have words to describe his perspective on the best of Hannibal. I think at that moment, he's not sure if, to him, the worst of Hannibal truly overrides the best. He /wants/ to think that, but... Perhaps the distance has given him time to reflect back on what Hannibal had done for him. I mean. Like. All of it was a lie. Literally all of it. And Hannibal /was/ doing what he thought was best, which is hella /worse/. But he killed that judge. He set Will free. All because he just wants to see what he would /do/, of course. 
> 
> But maybe at this point, Will's starting to think that what he should do is go back to Hannibal, keep playing the game. He's never felt so /real/ as he does in Hannibal's orbit. No /matter/ that it poisons him as well. He perhaps is (deluding) telling himself that his encephalitis is gone, that he is not losing time, that Hannibal will not try that /particular/ shit on him ever again. And now he knows better. Now he has some modicum of power over the situation. He has all the power, really. And decided to throw it all away - temporarily - and throw himself into Han's orbit. They both crave that closeness.

Hannibal has weaknesses. Never anything that would get him discovered, not /quite/. (Not /yet/.) But it would get him /hurt/. And hurt he does. Hurt him, Will Graham /can/. And once Will sees that Hannibal truly /does/ want him to be happy, or at least alive, at least /interesting/, at least /entertaining/ him... He starts to think that if the price of life with Hannibal is always being entertaining to him? That's not too high to pay. 

It'd be hard, especially as they got older, to always do novel things. Perhaps it would be /Hannibal/ who convinced Will that novelty was not what he sought, but /art/. Perhaps Will would take up brewing or something. That would be an interesting conversation to have over a bleeding-out corpse. 

\---

Hannibal's mouth is tight, because the display is /gauche/. He thought Will knew better than this. There is no need for a show of force at the moment, so he simply asks, "Did you believe I would find this display acceptable?" 

"Well, it's /different/, isn't it? I've never killed like this before." And he sounds so /proud/ when he says it, Hannibal feels his tight brows relax fractionally. 

"You believe I seek that which is /different./" He takes Will's bloody, gloved hands in his own in an effort to get Will to refocus on him. It works. He savors every prolonged, full second of eye contact, remembering always the days it was so rare. 

"You seek /amusement/," Will retorted, lips quivering with what, two years ago, would have been contempt, but now was temptation. He truly believes he has done well. 

Hannibal's face crumples very slightly into something exasperated and fond. He brushes the blood-matted hair from Will's forehead, re-parting it and sticking it back with the tacky red substance. Will giggles at him - honestly giggles - and Hannibal's smile is true. 

"I seek the /artistic/, Will. Did you not notice? Did you not /know/?" Will tilts his head. 

"My gift... isn't /that/ precise. I can tell you that you kill for the aesthetic, but I can't parse out precisely what your standards of beauty are..." He bit his lip, fear flaring his pupils either in spite of, or because of, the act. "Did I get it wrong?" 

Before the fear in his eyes can grow to all-consuming, before he becomes a shaking, subhuman wreck in Hannibal's arms, the killer kisses his forehead and both of his cheeks, pulling back into his field of vision with a smile. 

"Yes, Will. You got it very wrong." The adrenaline pouring into his system makes him shaky, but his eyes show he has calmed, at least. The mind ahead of the body in this instance. "But I will not kill you for it. Remember, I am going to kill you...." 

"When I least expect it, yes, yes." Will nodded jerkily, looking down and then to the side. "Makes it hard to /trust/ you, you know," he mentions conversationally as he removes his hands fully from the thoroughly-debauched corpse. 

"Not at all. It is an exercise in mental clarity. You should be able to trust me, and to know exactly what I am, at all times. This is your goal, Will." 

"That /goal/ will be achieved once I am sure that I'm not..." His brow furrows and he stares off into perfectly middle distance, giving Hannibal no facial cues. 

"Not what?" 

"Not just another pig for slaughter," he finishes conversationally, despite the way his eyes jitter and will not meet his. 

"Will," Hannibal sighs again, dropping several of his supplies to cage Will's face in both his hands. Will has stopped flinching so badly at the sensation only due to extensive association retraining. Most of his buried memories have resurfaced, after all. And Hannibal took all kinds of liberties with his person when he was sure Will would not remember them. 

"You are /not/ a pig. If I ever kill you and eat you, it will be an act of respect such as I have never performed. You are a singularly intelligent and capable human being and you are my equal." He kisses Will's forehead again, savoring the way it trembles beneath his lips. "And because you do not yet believe me, I will keep telling it to you every day until you do." 

Will exhales shakily, in a few bursts, seemingly fighting the urge to embrace his friend, his lover, aware of how Hannibal detests doing laundry. Aware, from first-hand experience, how hard bloodstains are to wash out. 

"Touch me, Will. I can see you want to." 

"N-no, your... your /clothes/..." He's hiccuping now, and wishes he couldn't see himself as clearly as he does. 

"I can buy new ones, Will. Never underestimate my love for you. It surpasses even that of my clothes." 

Will huffs out laughter as he forces his locked limbs to uncurl and wrap around his lover as he wishes to.

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for the abrupt ending! Is it too obvious that the author wrote this for selfish wish-fulfillment purposes... T_T


End file.
